2012 01 23 More Like Nonja

Log Title:
…More like Nonja

Spider-Man and Dajan

IC Date:

Somewhere in Manhattan

Brief log summary::
Spider-Man spots another Ninja … more or less. Less.


There is no TS in this log::

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It's late again, so late. And the snow's started, ugh. One thing that they never show on the television when they feature super-heroes, it's how they each deal with the weather. Iron Man has his armor, Hulk doesn't care. Spidey? He wears extra underwear and shivers.

So it'd perhaps be surprising to some should they see an image of the spectacular wall-crawler perched upon a growling gargoyle high above the skyline of Manhattan. His legs bent, his hands resting upon the horned features of the stoney edifice. His teeth chatter even as he looks around at the neighborhood he patrolled only a few days ago.

"How do they do it?" He murmurs to himself. Sometimes when he's alone, he talks to himself. Really not that crazy of an affectation for a guy who runs around in a spider-suit. "I mean they just have black pajamas and here it's…" He checks his little flip phone and frowns, "Like below freezing. Ugh."

FLASHBACK! It seemed only sensible to pick up the tonfa blade. There were half a dozen ninjas leaping and kiaiying all over the place. A girl needs to be able to defend herself with something when pepper spray and a good loud scream won't do it. So of course Dajan picked up one when the opportunity presented itself, and used it in the manner that seemed most sensible for being neither trained in its use, nor having the desire to kill the ninjas. And afterward, it only seemed sensible to keep it. The little room she's renting is not in a great neighborhood despite the friendly porch light.

Unfortunately, this turned out to be an unfortunate idea. This turned out to be something the ninjas were /counting on/. Dajan had worn gloves while out in the cold, but it didn't matter. The blade and its hilt were both treated with a magisensitive hallucinogen; it gave off neither smell nor taste, but it opened up her mind to suggestibility. And when she dozed off, still in her ridiculous waitress uniform, the spell on the blade did its work, evil magic winnowing its way into her psyche.

Dajan wakes with a headache of the sort that usually accompany the adolescent onset of mutant powers. "How is /that/ fair?" she complains. "I already /got/ mine!" She spends that first morning after the ninja attack lying in bed with an ice pack made from a dollar store ziploc bag and a cheap washcloth. "I didn't drink or do anythin' for this feelin' like a hangover must feel."

As the day goes on, she dutifully works her shift at the diner, but not at her usual level. She isn't rude, but her usual cheerful facade is too much for her to hold up. Her tips show it, too. By the time she finishes her shift, the headache has become all but blinding as the magic bulldozes its way past her meager psychic defenses. She staggers out onto the curb, meaning to throw an arm out for a taxi, but everything goes black for the young mutant.

NOW: The below freezing weather goes unnoticed. The wind and snow are nothing. The girl once known as Dajan is garbed all in black, and sneaking around the rooftops, making not a sound. She wasn't moving like this the last time Spider-Man saw her. And the only thing making it obvious that it's her is that despite the bargain basement attempt at ninja style outfitting, she didn't cover that cloud of hair, and the gap in her mask shows the freckles in the same pattern on her face.

Not that Spider-Man would be able to recognize her, at least at first. For there's a moment right now… when he espies her from afar. There's that tell-tale tingle of his spider-sense railing, his attention snapping up and around. His gaze focuses in that direction and there… a black silhouette rushing across the rooftops.

"Jackpot!" He says to himself even as he plants one hand upon the lip of the rooftop's wall and vaults himself over. Flipping once cleanly in the air, he drops… down down down into the abyss between buildings. He builds up momentum, faster and faster, then a webline shoots out with a /Thwip!/ and suddenly turns his plummeting fall into a smooth arc that fires him off in the direction of that dashing ninja girl.

The ninja with no name doesn't even pause to acknowledge Spider-Man. Whatever mission she is on at the moment, it has taken all of her concentration, more likely, so she hasn't even realized someone's tagged her and is on her trail. That and the fact that she is not trained as a ninja, but the spell is trying to force her to nonetheless mean she is moving a little slower, a little less gracefully than a /real/ ninja might.

She pauses occasionally to make practice slashes with the tonfa. Her step falters now and again as the real Dajan struggles, a prisoner in her own backbrain.

And as is part of his manner, Spidey's appearance is heralded by that voice of his. Part mockery, part curiousity, the tone is that light sing-song thing that it often is for him. "So is this part of an exchange program? Are there like rooftops in Japan right now with shifty-eyed gangsters holding violin cases running around? Because seriously guys, this is getting old."

And with that he drops down upon the rooftop, /fwumpf/ right in front of her landing in a half-crouch with his arms wide open, clearly intending to impede her progress. "And really, is this amateur night? I mean look at you, that's not even a…" Then, things start to fall into place as he eyeballs her. "Wait a sec…"

"Stand back, Spider-Man," replies the voice that belongs to Dajan. The accent, however, which was straight out of Louisiana, is absent now. Her English is now unaccented and almost a monotone. "We have no quarrel with you. Under other circumstances, we might welcome you as a worthy adversary. But we have a goal, and we will not countenance your meddling interference." This may look like the same plucky girl from the other night, but apparently she's stepped out and somebody else is driving.

"Yeah, uh…" Spidey leans forwards a bit and cants his head to the side, almost like a quizzical canine as he tries to get a bead on what exactly is happening here. His features are unreadable behind the mask, but his body language conveys much, and right now it's terribly curious. "If you like know, _anything_ about me you know that's not going to happen."

"Didn't, I rescue you the other day? And wow that sword looks familiar."

"Then you have chosen your own death," says not-quite-Dajan in her not-accent. "KIYAI!" She lunges for him, tonfa blade already out. Her reflexes are slightly better than they were the other night — enhanced by whatever force is making her behave like a murderous ninja. It's not gonna give her much of an advantage against the Amazing Spider-Man. But whatever has her in its sway does not take such an unbalanced pairing of opponents into consideration.

As she moves in he twists smoothly. Her blade whistling past him within a hair's breadth. When she recovers and strikes again he ducks low under the next, dropping into a three-point stance even as he twists and swirls around behind her. "Alright, this is just weird."

When she turns to recover and take aim at him again there's a short /thwip!/ heard as he extends his hands towards her, fingers index and pinky finger forwards. Twin weblines fire, one at her feet and the other at the sword. "Yoink." He adds, for his own special version of sound effects.

Dajan's feet get entangled by sticky webbing, proof that she's no ninja. A real ninja might've anticipated her oppinent and backflipped away. She, however, gets stuck, and goes down hard on her backside, managing only barely to avoid smacking her head into the hard rooftop. The impact causes her hands to fly open in falling reflex, and the blade is easily yanked from her grip.

She mutters under her breath, unintelligibly, and rather than try to free herself altogether, simply sheds her boots, leaving her barefoot. She leans back, kicks forward, and lands on the balls of her feet, body already entering a fighting stance that is just a hair slower than a trained ninja's motions should be. She does not speak again, only circles, trying to gauge her opponent.

"Alright, this is probably not a good idea. Why don't you just let me take you in and you can relax? I'll go get some sushi and some manga and we can laugh about this in the morning?" That having been said he's not taking her lightly, despite his words. He counter circles and frowns to himself behind the mask. This is going to be much harder since he doesn't want to hurt her, and still something's decidedly up.

It's in that moment, however, when he realizes the blade in his hand is cold… much colder than it should be. It's an instant of distraction when he glances over, perhaps giving her a hint of a window in which she can strike.
From afar, Spider-Man was thinking maybe slowly with the sword out of her grip that she'll be able to fight it?

Dajan does take that moment of distraction. And whatever it is that's going on with her, it's less inclined to give away her movements with sound. There is no kiai this time as she aims a flying kick at the webspinner's head.

Of course it's good to have a spider-sense in times like this. There's that clang of alarm in his thoughts, the roiling wildness of chaos. His gaze snaps instantly to the pseudo-ninja even as she leaps forward uncoiling in that smooth flying kick. For someone that's untrained, she's fairly graceful.

Bending like a reed, the Amazing Spider-Man flips backwards, going over backwards and his hands planting upon the rooftop to help propel him away from her. He comes up and ducks, jukes to the side, then leaps upon the industrial air conditioner that rests atop this particular rooftop. "Look, lady. Not to be a jerk but you're not going to like this if we keep on keepin' on."

"A fair point," agrees the ninjaesque woman. And with that, she turns, and makes for the edge, boots forgotten. Despite the ice, her footing is strangely sure — a sign that something more than this kid being some kind of prodigy is at work here. She clearly has decided that escaping and continuing with her mission blade or no blade, and getting away from Spider-Man is the more constructive result than continuing a fight in which she is clearly outmatched.

"I can't let you do that," And then the decision is made. Spider-Man pads after her. One moment he's behind her, then the next he's flipping through the air. His lithe and acrobatic form twisting smoothly until he lands in a crunch of fallen snow before her, blocking her progress. He holds up his hands, but this time he's angling to contain her, restrain her, and if needs be stop her.

Dajan slides a little in the ice at having to stop short to avoid the webslinger as he makes his acrobatic motion to block her. "Damn you," she hisses through clenched teeth. She casts about for something, anything to use as a weapon since he still has her blade. Nothing comes to hand — except her own body. Another pair of arms stretch down the armholes of the tank top she's wearing, and now there are /four/ arms at the ready. Instead of a flying kick, which has already failed, she lunges for him, seeking to catch him in a sleeper hold or nerve pinch. Apparently despite her stated intentions, there's enough Dajan in there that she doesn't really want to kill him.

The next few moments are a blur of motion. She darts in, the strikes coming fast and wicked as she strikes. She'll feel the jolt of impact as his forearm comes up to stop one, then a twist as the other slides one of her attacks off to the side. There's a furrow to his brow as he concentrates. Usually he holds back when fighting someone that's normal-ish, and she still is normal… ish despite the four arms.

"Whoa, Doc Ock'll be all sorts of envious you're totally stealing his schtick." He offers that wryly even as he slips to the side. When she tries to slip behind him he's able to drop low, pulling on her arm to try and /flip/ her forwards, seeking to land her in a snowbank and then he draws back a fist. "Sorry, kiddo." And with that… he lets the haymaker fly.

Dajan is no better a martial artist with the extra arms. Spidey is just too much more an experienced combatant despite her weirdly and suddenly acquired skills. He grasps her lower right arm and flips her forward. She lands in the snowbank with an aggrieved and muffled exclamation, but before she can begin to free herself from the cold mess, a significantly strong punch makes everything go black for her for the second time. The fight drains out of her at once. She goes limp as consciousness is knocked away, and the extra arms begin shrinking back into her body as he's seen them do before.

"Hope she'll forgive me," Spider-Man murmurs quietly even as he kneels to draw her up. A quick makeshift web-harness is created with the hiss of his web-shooter, helping hold her to him as he plans to swing away. It allows him to cradle her with one arm safely while he uses the other to travel.

Lifting her up and holding her close, he frowns to himself behind that red and black mask, then shakes his head. "Something strange is up here…" And before he starts to swing off he produces that small flip comm again, keying up a number. The phone rings a few times, then there's a voice on the other end to which Spidey says, "Heya, I need to ask a favor…"

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